Malfoy | [Draco Malfoy x Reader]

T W E N T Y-F O U R

A/N: The beginning of this Chapter is a little bit harsh, so a warning for any sensitive readers. It is not that bad, but it is quite sad.

[Blows nose.]

I'm putting poor (Y/N) through so much.

*Insert evil laugh here*

-

Christmas Day had begun in all but a short blink of an eye, though (Y/N) could not be more disappointed, sad actually. Yes, that was the more fitting term for most recent events; the doing of a certain letter she had recieved the day before! A day before Christmas... And how rather disappointing it was. She felt so glum and blue. And oh, so tired. Her Mum was too busy, yet again and did not have the time for any distractions, also known as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) herself. Yes...In essence, the little girl honestly and truthfully started to feel like a complete burden these days. An irritation. A pest.

Like an insect.

And that alone, was the understatement of the century of what she really felt - emptiness.

Like an echo.

An afterthought.

Maybe she had the silly illusion that things would have changed this year or look up to brighter, warmer days in the sun, but that was so, so far from the truth. The harsh, cold, brutal truth. Instead - she was left behind with the freezing white snow, a storm, midst in the pit of her stomach, her heart completely overweight with the amount of heavy stones of utter despair and loneliness her own Mother had caused. And not just her. Many more people. People from her past. People from right now.

People here at Hogwarts.

Draco....

(Y/N) was drowning in herself. Trying to gasp for air, but it was completely useless. Utterly useless. She was all by herself, in the middle of a cruel tsunami, in the deep, dark sea; the Atlantis, where no one can find her. The under-toe.

No matter how hard she screams and shouts her heart out -

Will no one hear her. Find her.

But, she will never stop screaming, begging for help. Waving her hands frantically. Tears in her eyes and scars engraved in her skin from the amount of her she has conjured after all these years. Even now. Though, it feels worse than it ever did before.

Yet, she won't give up. Even if she's tired and out of breath, even then. She only needs someone to hear her. Seek her out.

Someone that won't let her drown.

And the most spectacular part of all; she almost choked out a laugh when she had read it, her Mum did not even write anything in the lines of 'Happy Christmas' or 'I love you', but only a silly attempt excuse of an apology, that consisted of one scrawny little meaningless, pathetic word: 'Sorry.' It seemed like, to Gertrude (Y/L/N), that her job came before her only Daughter. How typica! How...how sad. Suffice to say, in (Y/N)'s wonderfully wise words: "It really sucked." And it did. It hurt her so, so much that her Mother did not have the audacity, the courtesy to care. Even if it was a smidgen. A tad of acknowledgement, a little recognition, that would have been lovely. Tolerable at best.

Sometimes, her heart ached so much, that all she could possibly feel was numbness and the inevitable pain , and she was Twelve. Twelve. It was not right.

(Y/N) never knew her Father, given some type of misfortunate tragedy, but her Grandmother gave her enough information to let her see a glimpse, to understand that it was not at easy for her Mother. And she could not blame her, she never has and she never will. Her Mum was hurting and she understood. And, after her Father passed along, her Mother has never, ever been the same. Her priorities became her job and procrastinating. A way to somehow forget...the ongoing grief, the pain, the feeling of sadness and guilt. The feeling of her lost True Love.